A Very Merry Christmas
by TheSapphireSky
Summary: Tis the season for Sherlolly Holiday Shenanigans and Sweetness! A part of the 12 Days of Sherlolly :)
1. Christmas Compromise

**Merry Christmas! I decided to join in the 12 Days of Sherlolly over on AO3, hosted by the wonderful darnedchild and liksherlockian1975, and have a few ficlets to share with you this holiday season!**

 **A million thanks to Buttercup59 for her fantastic Beta skills! Love you! :)**

 **I own nothing, but the plots.**

* * *

'What are you doing?'

Molly glared up at her new flatmate, who was teetering precariously on the arm of the sofa, trying to place an angel on the top of the ridiculously tall Christmas tree they'd bought.

'I think it's rather obvious,' Sherlock quipped. 'I'm putting the angel on the tree.'

'Yeah, got that. Surprisingly,' she rolled her eyes. 'I meant, why are you putting an _angel_ on the tree?'

Sherlock looked back at her over his shoulder and froze when he saw the star in her hands. He scowled. 'There's no way I'm putting that ridiculous thing on my tree.'

' _Our_ tree, Sherlock. And why not?'

'My mother always put an angel on the tree. It's tradition.'

'You've never done tradition before! And we wouldn't be having this discussion if _I_ hadn't convinced you to get the tree in the first place!' Molly set the star down on the sofa and planted her hands on her hips.

Sherlock jumped down and stalked toward her.

'Well, I'm not having a star for a tree topper.'

'And I'm not having an angel!'

The flatmates glared at each other, neither willing to back down.

Finally, Molly held out her hands, a fist over her palm. 'Rock-Paper-Scissors for it.'

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. 'You'll never win. I'll read every tell on you.'

'Oh? Stalling now?'

His eyes narrowed. 'Fine. You're on.'

 **Christmas Eve**

'That's an interesting choice,' John nodded at the tree.

Sherlock ignored him and took a sip of his wine, his eyes searching the room.

John smirked. 'First time I've ever seen an angel tied to a star.'

'It was Molly's idea,' Sherlock mumbled. 'A compromise. Bloody woman can bluff exceptionally well.'

From across the room, Molly looked up from her conversation with Mummy and caught his gaze. She smiled widely, the wine bringing a soft flush to her complexion and Sherlock smiled back in kind.

John noticed his friend's attention had shifted and his eyebrows rose in surprise, but he wisely kept the smug grin off his face.

He had a feeling the angel-star would be making an appearance for many Christmases yet to come.

Only _after_ the new flatmates had made their relationship official would he say 'I told you so.'


	2. Christmas Cheer

**Miss Hooper's flight has been cancelled due to inclement weather. MH**

 **Why does that concern me? SH**

 **I assumed you would want to be aware of the current status of your pathologist. MH**

 **Don't assume, Mycroft. You know what the goldfish say. SH**

 **Considering you are already an ass, I shall take the risk of being labelled the same. Though in this case, I know I am correct. MH**

 **A car is waiting for you outside. MH**

 **Merry Christmas, brother mine. MH**

* * *

It was with a heavy heart that Molly let herself into her flat and dropped her bags to the floor. She leaned back against the door and tried not to cry. The flat was dark and lonely. She hadn't taken any of her Christmas decorations out of storage and had sent all of the gifts she'd bought for Matty and Jenna and the kids on ahead. To the US. Where they would be celebrating Christmas without her. Again.

Stupid snow. Stupid weather.

Her bottom lip trembled tellingly and she took a shuddering breath.

Knock knock knock.

Sucking in her breath, she wiped away the tear that had fallen and reluctantly turned around to peer through the peephole. A mass of something green blocked her view.

'Molly, let us in. This is rather cumbersome.' Though his voice was muffled by the door, Sherlock's baritone was unmistakable.

With a confused frown, Molly opened the door and her eyes widened in surprise.

Standing on the landing were the Watsons, carrying all kinds of holiday boxes and bags, their cheeks rosy and their hats covered in snow, and who she assumed was Sherlock, as all of him but his leather glove-clad hands were obscured by a huge Christmas tree.

'Merry Christmas, love!' Mary greeted her with a smile and a kiss before pushing past her into the flat. John kissed Molly's cheek and then followed his wife, the sound of bells jingling with every step he took.

'What are you- How did you-?' She stammered in shock as Sherlock shuffled inside and she had to step back to avoid being smacked by a pine branch.

'Do shut the door, Molly, you're letting the cold air in,' Sherlock drawled. Snapping out of her shock for a moment, she dutifully closed the door as Sherlock began barking orders to the rest.

'John, move the armchair. No, not that one, that one! Honestly, you're a right idiot.'

'How was I supposed to know which one?!'

'Obviously, I meant the one nearest the window. Who would put a Christmas tree against that wall? An idiot, that's who.'

'Look, mate, I'm not above shoving that tree up your-'

The boys continued bickering, leaving Molly to drift toward Mary, who was unpacking the multiple boxes and bags. Strings of fairy lights joined garlands and ornaments in one pile. Another pile consisted of what appeared to be aisle 7 of the local grocer: two bags of flour, powdered sugar, eggs, and more.

And at her feet was a large box overflowing with brightly wrapped gifts.

'Mind giving me a hand with the lights?' Mary smiled up at Molly and handed her one end of the strand.

'What are you all doing here?' Molly whispered, shooting a confused look at John and Sherlock, who were now struggling to affix the tree to the stand. John was on his stomach on the floor under the tree, while Sherlock held the tree up and demanded John to hurry up.

Mary smiled and began to untangle the lights. 'Sherlock told us you couldn't make it to your brother's for the holidays and we decided to bring the holidays to you. Oh, and you're coming over tomorrow morning to open gifts with us and the baby; Sherlock's parents are here, too. They won't let Charlotte out of their sight.' She smiled. 'Now, where shall we start hanging these? How about over the window!'

Speechless, Molly stumbled along behind her friend, still holding one end of the lights. 'Y-you all came for me?'

She glanced over her shoulder where the boys were now hotly debating with side of the tree should face the room.

'Why?'

Mary climbed up on the armchair and draped the end of the lights over the curtain rod. 'Because we love you, silly. Now budge up and give me a bit more slack.'

Warmth spread across Molly's chest and tears pricked her eyes. Blinking them back, she smiled and handed a few more feet of lights to Mary.

She might not be able to visit her brother for Christmas.

But she would still celebrate with family.


	3. Christmas Cards

Sherlock trudged up the stairs after a long day of chasing after a serial killer Santa through the cold, wet London streets. With the man now caught, Sherlock was very much looking forward to his warm flat and a good rest.

He opened the door to 221b and breathed out a deep sigh of contentment. The fire crackled in the hearth and the smell of cookies baking in the oven caused his mouth to water.

And sitting cross-legged on the floor by the sofa, surrounded by what appeared to be mountains of photo cards and envelopes, was Molly. Dressed in a baggy sweater decorated with snowflakes and reindeer, her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and tied with a sparkly red ribbon. She had a pen behind her ear and glasses on her face as she flipped through a notebook.

She looked up at his entrance and smiled. 'Catch him?'

'Just before he tried to jump into the Thames.' Sherlock shrugged out of his coat and let it fall to the ground. He side-stepped her piles and stretched out on the couch behind her. She looked back at him and kissed him softly.

'My hero.'

Settling his chin on her shoulder, he asked, 'Christmas cards?'

Molly hummed. 'Just making sure we didn't forget to include anyone.' She reached down and plucked one of the cards from the pile and held it in front of her. 'What do you think?'

Sherlock stared at the festive card and felt his heart ready to burst. He'd been reluctant to do a photo session, insisting it was a ridiculous waste of time; but he'd been wrong.

Their five-month-old daughter, dressed in a red holiday dress with sparkling white trim, laughed at the camera, the apples of her cheeks rosy and her blue eyes wide with delight, as Molly and Sherlock kissed her cheeks.

'It's perfect,' he murmured. Molly sighed happily and leaned her head back. Sherlock took the opportunity and caught her lips, reacquainting himself with his wife.

Suddenly, the monitor crackled and their daughter's happy babbling filled the room. Sherlock groaned when Molly pulled away.

'I guess nap time is over.' She giggled and made to get up, but Sherlock stayed her with a hand. 'Let me.'

With one last kiss, he stood and made his way into the nursery, where his daughter was standing in her cot. Upon seeing her father, Georgina's face bloomed into a wreath of smiles as she bounced up and down.

Sherlock picked her up and cuddled her close.

'Dada dadada,' she babbled, her hands reaching out to poke at his face.

'Hello, my love,' he nuzzled her cheek.

It was good to be home.


	4. Christmas Carol

It was his final concert. After tonight, he would be stepping down as director of the Symphony.

It was a bittersweet Christmas Eve. He didn't regret his decision to leave and move into composing full-time.

No, it was the Principal Violinist who was haunting his thoughts this night.

It wasn't love, he told himself. The same thing he'd been telling himself for three years.

But lately he'd been having a hard time believing it.

Brushing a hand through his curls, Sherlock flipped through the stacks of music covering the stand. Behind him, the audience's applause had died down and they were breathlessly waiting.

The final movement was his own interpretation of the Christmas hymn _O Holy Night_. Featuring a Violin soloist. It had taken him months to get right before introducing it to the orchestra. But when he did, seeing her brown eyes light up in surprise and delight made all his work worth it.

Finally, he pulled out the director's piece.

He looked beside him to where Molly Hooper stood. Her red gown fit her beautifully and she'd left her hair down, a silver bow pendant her only decoration. She looked up at him and smiled when he nodded.

He lifted his arms and she lifted her bow.

To hear her play was near heaven; her fingers curved around the neck of the Violin gracefully as she moved with the sway of her bow.

As the piece progressed, the accompaniment grew to a crescendo, then faded quickly. Leaving Molly to play the final stanza alone.

Sherlock lowered his arms and turned to watch her play.

The haunting notes that poured from her fingers pulled at him like nothing else had ever done before. She truly lost herself in the music, forgetting the audience, the orchestra, even herself it seemed.

He was proud of her, of how she'd grown since she joined the Symphony. Her confidence in herself and her remarkable talent as a violinist grew and she'd flourished under his tutelage.

He was suddenly struck at the thought that he would no longer see her every day, or catch her eye over the stand and watch her nose twist when she played a wrong note, see the fierce determination in her eyes as she took whatever composition he gave her and poured her heart into it until it felt as if she was playing his very heartstrings.

Sherlock's pulse began to race as realisation began to dawn.

As the strains of her final note faded into the stunned crowd, Molly opened her eyes and looked right at him, tears on her cheeks, and he finally saw it. The pain and beauty of her emotions, poured into song, all for him.

She was playing for him.

His baton clattered to the floor and his long legs closed the distance between them in two strides. With one hand on her waist and the other on her cheek, he lowered his head and kissed her with all the longing and love that he had finally set free.

'Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper,' he mumbled against her lips. She smiled and pulled him back down, her arms going around his neck.

Around them, the audience applauded wildly and cheered. From the wings, his assistant director, John, could be heard shouting 'It's about time, mate!' as the rest of the orchestra stomped their feet and tapped their bows against the music stands.

But neither Molly nor Sherlock particularly cared.


	5. Christmas Celebration

Molly smiled and waved as her students raced out the door for the holiday break. She turned and began to wipe off the chalkboard.

'Miss Hooper?'

Molly froze and looked down. 'Oh, Adelaine.' She dropped the eraser and brushed off her hands. Dropping down onto her haunches, she smiled kindly. 'Did you need something?'

The little girl, with curly hair tied in pigtails, smiled shyly. Bringing her hand around, she held out a piece of red construction paper with homemade snowflakes glued atop.

Molly took it and looked it over. In Adelaine's improving handwriting was a charming invitation to a holiday party at her home the next evening.

'Oh, how sweet!'

'Will you come? _Please_?' Big blue-green eyes looked up at her beseechingly.

Words failed Molly. If she said no, she would disappoint one of her favourite students, and herself. If she said yes, she would have to endure an evening with Adelaine's father, a man she had developed feelings for. Unrequited feelings.

'It would not be an enjoyable evening if you declined, Miss Hooper.'

Molly looked up in surprise at the deep voice. Coming to stand behind his daughter, Mr Holmes stared down at her with an expectant face.

'O-oh,' she stammered, a deep blush staining her cheeks. 'Erm, thank you. I-I'll be there.'

Adelaine's face broke out into a wreath of smiles. Mr Holmes swung her up into his arms as Molly straightened up and self-consciously brushed her Christmas-themed skirt.

'See, Daddy,' Adelaine smiled smugly. 'I told you she'd say yes!'

To Molly's surprise, a faint blush stole across Mr Holmes's sharp cheekbones and he seemed hesitant to meet her eyes.

'The address is on the invitation. Until then, Miss Hooper.'

With that, he spun away in a flash of black. Adelaine smiled and waved at her over his shoulder. 'See you tomorrow!'

Molly waved absently.

 _Oh, dear._

oOo

'You asked her then?'

Sherlock looked at John from the corner of his eye and hummed an affirmative.

John laughed softly. 'Good. You've been moony-eyed over this woman for months now.'

'I have not been _moony-eyed_ ,' Sherlock defended himself, sneering at the term.

However true it may have been.

John snorted and simply slapped his friend on the back. 'Well, good luck, mate. Try not to scare her off, yeah. Adelaine adores her.'

'I am aware,' Sherlock hissed, but John had already walked away. His foot tapped impatiently against the floor and he looked at the clock for the seventh time in the past five minutes. She was late. The party had officially started twelve minutes ago.

Just then, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Soft and uncertain.

 _Molly._

As soon as she appeared on the landing, her eyes were wide and she clearly was uncomfortable as she took in the people. In addition to Adelaine, Mrs Hudson and the Watsons with their two daughters, Mummy and Papa had decided to spend the holidays with him, and Mycroft had been badgered into coming by his niece. Lestrade and his new wife were there, as well.

Sherlock could see she was about ready to slip back downstairs before anyone noticed her, so he quickly rushed to greet her. 'Miss Hooper, so glad you could come.'

'The sign on the door said to just come upstairs,' she explained, and quickly held out a silver tin, tied with a red bow. 'Christmas cookies. My mum's recipe.'

Sherlock took the tin and lifted the lid. Instantly his mouth watered at the delicious aroma of freshly baked sweets. 'Best to keep these away from my brother.'

Her eyes sparkled in the light when she smiled.

'Please come on in. Let me take your coat,' he offered. She hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether she could still make a quick exit, but then unbuttoned the pea coat and slid it off. Sherlock smiled at the brightly patterned Christmas jumper she had paired with dark jeans and draped her coat over his arm.

'I wasn't sure what to wear, if it was formal or-' She tugged on her sleeve self-consciously.

'You look perfect,' Sherlock cut in. A shy, pleased blush danced across her face and their eyes met. Sherlock licked his lips and opened his mouth to admit his ulterior motive for having Adelaide invite her. But then-

'Miss Hooper!' Adelaine exclaimed in delight and raced across the room. 'You came!'

Her eyes locked with Sherlock's for just a moment and he could see the brief flicker of regret before she looked away.

She smiled brightly and bent down just in time to catch Adelaine's hug, her little arms going around her neck. 'Of course I did. Merry Christmas, Adelaine.'

'Merry Christmas!' Adelaine beamed and took Molly's hand to lead her around the room. Sherlock followed behind and found himself admiring the silver bow she'd clipped in her hair, just above her ponytail.

'Nana, Papa, this is Miss Hooper!' Adelaine announced loudly and practically shoved Molly in front of the elderly couple sitting on the couch. Before Molly could even extend her hand in greeting, Adelaine was pushing her along. 'And this is my Uncle Myc, he's my daddy's brother!'

oOo

Having managed to extricate herself from the increasingly personal inquiry of Adelaide's parental figures (of which the girl had many; so, so many), Molly slipped into the kitchen and took a deep breath.

It had been a long time since she'd celebrated Christmas with anyone other than her aging cat, Toby. It was nice. If a bit overwhelming.

Finding the bottle of red wine, Molly refilled her glass with shaky hands.

Mr Holmes had been staring at her all evening. She could feel his eyes on her almost constantly and it sent her into a whirlwind of confusion and butterflies.

'Overwhelmed?'

Spinning around, Molly discovered Mr Holmes leaning against the doorframe, watching her. She smiled nervously. 'A bit. They're all so lovely, I just needed a moment.'

'Oh, believe me. I understand.' He pushed off and sauntered toward her. Unsure of where to look, with his piercing gaze leveled directly on her, Molly looked down into her glass, her fingers playing with the stem.

'I am having a wonderful time, though. It was sweet of Adelaine to invite me.' She glanced up at him and leaned back in surprise to find him standing over her.

Without breaking their gaze, Mr Holmes took the glass from her hand and set it on the table. 'What if I told you it wasn't just Adeliane who wanted you to come?'

Heart racing, Molly's eyes went wide and she could feel the burn of a blush. She swallowed thickly. 'Really?'

'Really.' His lips twitched into a smile. Raising his eyebrows meaningfully, he leaned his head back. Molly followed his gaze and gasped.

 _Mistletoe_.

'Well, Miss Hooper,' he whispered and placed his hands on her cheeks. 'It _is_ tradition.'

Whatever words Molly could have said were stolen by his lips as he pulled her close and thoroughly and completely kissed her.

oOo

Adelaine snuffled and buried her curly head deeper into Molly's side. The two girls were dozing by the fire in Sherlock's chair, Molly's hand lazily stroking Adelaine's curls. Leaning against the doorframe, Sherlock's heart swelled with affection at the sight.

His parents had retired to John's former room hours ago and not too long after, the others had made their goodbyes. Molly had insisted on staying and helping clean up a bit afterward, to which Sherlock had made no complaints. He hadn't stopped smiling all evening and the memory of their kiss in the kitchen left him wanting more.

Just then, Molly's eyes fluttered open and she blinked sleepily, looking down with a soft smile at the sleeping Adelaine who shivered a bit, despite the warmth of the fire. Carefully, Molly reached over and grabbed the edge of a throw and drew it over them both, tucking Adelaine into her side with a kiss to the top of her curly head.

Sherlock took a moment to freeze the picture and store it away in his memories before joining them.

It would be the first of many Christmas nights they would spend as a family.

They just didn't know it quite yet.


	6. Christmas Cookies

Warm air and the smell of freshly baked pastries hit him as soon as he opened the door. Sherlock sloughed off his coat and hung it on the wood pegs by the door. He kicked the door shut behind him, blocking the raging snow storm outside, and stomped the snow from his boots.

Following his nose to the sweets, he heard voices and laughter ringing out from the kitchen. He opened the door and ducked inside.

'You're back!' Molly looked up at his entrance and smiled widely. She gestured toward her flour-covered apron and messy hands. 'I'd greet you properly, but…'

Sherlock ignored her protests and caught her round the waist for a proper hello. He pulled back and licked his lips, his tone accusing. 'Sugar cookie dough?'

'It was his idea.' She pointed an accusing finger at Mycroft, who had a finger in his mouth. The British Government froze, his eyes wide. Slowly, he pushed the bowl of dough away from him.

'Molly,' Sherlock turned back to her with a frown.

'Oh, leave her alone, William,' Mummy tsked as she bustled into the kitchen. She pushed between them and led Molly around the table to a chair. 'She's eating for two now, let her have some sweets.'

'Raw eggs are not healthy, even for someone who isn't the mother of my future prodigy.'

Molly wiped her hands on a clean dishtowel, then tossed it at him. 'Oh, lighten up, Sherlock, there aren't any raw eggs in it. We made it specifically for eating _as a dough_.'

Sherlock swiped a smidgen of the dough from the bowl and brought it to his nose, giving it a suspicious sniff. 'No eggs?'

'Not a one.'

He didn't seem to believe them and tentatively licked the dough. He blinked several times, then proceeded to eat the rest from his finger. 'Not bad.'

Molly smiled smugly.

Plopping down in the chair across from Mycroft, he held the bowl against his chest and dragged his finger through the dough, scooping up a large dollop.

'Oi!' Mycroft protested and reached for the bowl. 'Molly made that for _us_ , not you!'

Sherlock curled himself around the bowl and twisted away. 'You've had your share! Plus some probably...fatty.'

'Sherlock, give it back!'

'No!'

Molly shook her head fondly at the bickering brothers and rubbed her rounded belly. 'Welcome to the circus, kiddo.'


	7. Christmas Couple

**AN: Giving you two one-shots today! I want to wrap this collection up on Christmas Day, and I'm not too good with maths, apparently, so I have a few extra. :) So, don't miss the chapter _Christmas Cookies_ before this one! **

* * *

Molly opened her door and frowned. 'Sherlock? What are you doing here?'

The Consulting Detective, her ex-boyfriend, stared down at her. Fresh snow covered his curls and shoulders and his cheeks were rosy from the cold.

'You declined the Watsons' invitation to Christmas dinner.'

Molly ducked her head and swallowed. 'I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. It's only been a few weeks since…'

She felt his hand under her chin, guiding her to look at him. His eyes were wide and he looked so vulnerable. 'I've missed you, Molly.'

'Sherlock,' she sighed heavily. He'd been the one to end things between them after four months together, so why was he here now?

He cut her off before she could say anything further and held out a beautifully wrapped red package with a shiny silver bow on top. 'I bought this for you before our relationship ended and had intended it as a Christmas present. It reminded me of you and I'd still like for you to have it.'

Hesitantly, Molly took it and peeled away the wrapping paper. She lifted the lid and smiled in delight at finding a beautiful knit jumper in yellows and blues dotted with little flowers inside. 'Oh, Sherlock,' she breathed. 'It's beautiful!'

Lifting the jumper out of the box, Sherlock held it out for her to slip into. Molly smiled at the big yellow buttons running down the front as Sherlock said, 'You've always been like sunshine to me, bright and warm, shining into all the dark places in my life.'

She looked up at him in surprise, tears filling her eyes.

'And no matter the circumstance, you've proven yourself resilient, like the Achillea flowers you see there, flourishing in whatever life has thrown your way. Beautiful and strong.'

'I don't understand,' she breathed in shakily, tears falling. 'Why are you saying these things now of all times?'

He reached out and brushed away her tears. 'Because I love you.'

Molly's eyes widened. A piece of the puzzle fell into place. 'Is that why you broke up with me? You were afraid?'

'I've never felt so strongly for someone in my life. The intensity frightened me and I panicked,' he admitted shamefully. 'It only took me a matter of hours to realise what a monumental mistake I made in terminating our relationship. But I was at a loss as to how to undo the damage.'

Her heart raced. 'Are you saying you want to get back together?'

He nodded and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. 'I won't make the same mistake again. I'm still afraid. But I am more afraid of not having you in my life.'

Her thoughts were all in a jumble. But in her heart, she knew there was only ever one answer when it came to Sherlock. 'Okay.'

Relief washed over his face. But before he could step any closer, Molly planted her free hand on his chest. 'But if you ever break up with me again, I know how to cover up a murder.'

Sherlock chuckled. 'I wouldn't expect anything less.'

Pacified, Molly gripped his shirt and pulled him down into a sweet kiss.

'Come to Christmas dinner with me,' he mumbled against her lips.

Molly dropped to her heels and pursed her lips. 'On one condition.'

'Anything.'

'If you ever feel overwhelmed, panicked, anything , please come to me.' She squeezed his hand. 'I love you . And I don't ever want you to feel like you have to hide from me.'

'I promise.'

Smiling, she leaned up on her toes and kissed him one more time.

Once she'd gotten her coat, they made their way downstairs and onto the snowy London street. Sherlock waited for Molly to lock the door, then offered her his hand to help her down the icy steps.

She smiled at him and they began the short walk to the Watson's, hand-in-hand.


	8. Cosy Christmas

She couldn't stop her teeth from chattering. Glaring at Sherlock from over her cup of tea, she mockingly drawled, ' _Come with me, Molly. It's only a six, Molly. What could happen, Molly?'_

From his own cocoon of blankets, Sherlock scowled back at her. 'Is it my fault you tripped and fell?'

'Yes! Yes, it bloody well is!' She snuggled deeper into her blankets. 'If you hadn't coerced me into coming with you, I wouldn't have been chasing after a band of criminals and I wouldn't have slipped on that patch of ice, and I wouldn't have gone over the edge and into the _bloody river!_ '

Sherlock huffed. 'Well, I went in after you, didn't I?'

Molly rolled her eyes. 'Oh, yes. You were a great help, what with that water-logged coat dragging us around.' She took a shaky sip of tea and mumbled, 'A bloody marvellous Christmas this is turning out to be.'

For a time, the only sound was the occasional shudder, their sips of tea, and the crackle from the fire.

'I'm sorry.' Sherlock said quietly, not looking away from the fire.

Molly sighed. 'I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have gotten so mad.'

'I'm glad you're okay.'

She smiled. 'I'm glad you're okay, too.'

He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow and held open his blankets. 'So what are you still doing over there?'

With a smile, Molly scooted over to him. Sherlock settled his blankets over her, effectively wrapping them up together.

'Merry Christmas, Sherlock.'

He smiled and kissed her sweetly.

'Merry Christmas, Molly.'


	9. Christmas Cupids

A muffled thumping from above greeted Molly as she opened the door into 221 Baker Street. The text from Mary had sent her rushing over, concerned about Sherlock.

 **Can you check on Sherlock? We haven't heard from His Nibs in a few days and would go ourselves, but Charlotte's been colicky. Thanks! Xoxo Mary**

Molly crept up the stairs and held out her scalpel in her right hand. She paused as more thumping and a muffled shout rang out.

Racing up the last few stairs, she barged into 221B, ready to give whomever had attacked Sherlock what-for.

Only to stumble to a stop at the sight before her.

Dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown, and tied to a kitchen chair in the middle of the lounge by what looked like 30 feet of flickering fairy lights, Sherlock looked up startled at her entrance.

'Mmmyyy?'

'Sherlock?!' She gaped, taking in the sight. 'What happened?'

He rolled his eyes and tilted his head.

 _Oh, right. Taped mouth._

'Sorry,' she murmured and tucked her scalpel away before hurrying over to peel away the duct tape from his face.

He grimaced and stretched his jaw. 'Thank you. Now, please untie me from these infernal festive fairy lights!'

Molly ignored his bark and plucked a gift tag that had been tied to one of his curls with a glittery-red ribbon.

 **Dearest Molly,**

 **Merry Christmas from your Secret Santas!**

 **One gift-wrapped lovesick Detective. Put him out of his pouting misery (and us out of ours!) and kiss the man!**

 **Love, The Watsons**

 **P.S. Absolutely no returns!**

'...think they can run my life, bloody interfering gits,' Sherlock was ranting. When he realised she was neither listening nor untying him, Sherlock stopped and glared up at her. 'Molly!'

Jumping, she looked at him over the top of the note.

He furrowed his brow. 'What's it say? Go on, tell me. What joke have the Watsons played on us now? Is this for the time I brought their spawn to the la-'

Molly dropped the tag and lunged, crashing her lips to his. The chair tilted back dangerously as Sherlock grunted in surprise and shock, but recovered quickly and immediately moaned into the kiss, deepening it to Molly's delight.

Breathless and flushed, she broke away and giggled at his dazed look.

'I assume this means that the Watsons have divulged my secret,' he said breathlessly. When Molly simply quirked an eyebrow, he pursed his lips. 'About my feelings for you.' She tilted her head knowingly. 'Okay, okay. I love you. I've loved you for a while now, but was afraid I'd missed my chance. Apparently not, though, which is a rather pleasant surprise.'

Grinning like the cat that got the cream, and trying to hide the fact that her heart was fit to burst, Molly grabbed his face and kissed him all over again. His arms struggled against the bonds, but he completely forgot about them when she nibbled on his lower lip and pulled a deep groan from him.

Reluctantly, they broke apart to breathe. Sherlock rested his head against her shoulder. 'Molly, please untie me. I'd very much like to hold you. Which I'm finding difficult at the moment.'

'Oh, I don't know. I rather like you helpless and sentimental.'

'Molly!'


	10. Christmas Kiss

**Because I couldn't resist writing up an "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" ficlet! :)**

* * *

 **Christmas Eve 10:17pm**

Will rubbed his eye and yawned as he trudged down the stairs. He knew he wasn't supposed to be up and out of bed on Christmas Eve or Santa wouldn't come, but he was thirsty and didn't think Santa would mind if he got a glass of water.

His bare feet padded down the stairs quietly and he was about to enter the kitchen when he heard a giggle from the living room.

A giggle that sounded a lot like Mummy.

Curious, Will peeked around the door. The lights from the Christmas tree were on and the plate of cookies he'd left for Santa with a glass of milk was sitting, untouched, by the fireplace.

And there on the sofa were Mummy and Santa.

 _Santa!_ Will gasped.

'I've missed you so much,' Mummy whispered and pulled Santa down and… _eeeew!_ They were _kissing!_ Like Daddy kissed Mummy, only Daddy was gone on a case and it was _Santa_ who was kissing Mummy!

'No!' Will shouted in his high, demanding voice and sprinted into the room. 'You get away from my Mummy!' He proceeded to pound his tiny fists on the legs of the intruder.

Santa exclaimed in surprise at the attack.

'Oh, my god, William!' Mummy tried to sit up, but Santa wouldn't budge off of her and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. Mummy shoved hard and hissed, 'Get off of me, you great oaf!'

Will grabbed the fur-lined sleeve of Santa's suit and pulled as hard as he could, ripping the seam of the jacket's shoulder. 'My Daddy is going to come and kick your bum for kissing my Mummy!' He threatened and returned to his punishing punches, which landed softly on Santa's back.

Mummy finally managed to get out from underneath Santa and fumbled to close her dressing gown. Her hair was all wild, like his was when he woke up in the morning, and her cheeks were bright red. Behind her, Santa was lying face-first in the sofa and laughing loudly, if a bit muffled.

'William, stop!' She grasped his hands and halted his attack. 'Look at me.'

Turning his righteously angry eyes to his mother, Will yanked his hands away from her and crossed his arms. 'You have lots of e'splaining to do, Mummy.'

'Yes, Mummy, do 'splain,' Santa said as he turned over, laughing in amusement.

Will's blue eyes widened to cartoonish proportions as he gasped in delight. 'Daddy!' He barrelled full-force onto his father, who let out a pained _oomph_ when a small, bony knee met his gut. Will was too busy wrapping his arms around his Daddy's neck to notice. 'I missed you so much!'

'I missed you, too,' Daddy chuckled and sat up, holding Will tight. Mummy shared a smile with Daddy over Will's head and left them be.

They sat there, father and son, for a long while before Will pulled back and frowned. 'Why are you dressed like Santa?'

Daddy chuckled and leaned in, with a conspiratorial smile. 'Would you like to hear all about the Case of the Embezzling Elves?'

Will's eyes widened and he nodded vigorously.

'How about some cocoa for my boys?' Mummy walked over with a smile, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in her hands.

'Really?' Will gasped in delight. A story _and_ hot chocolate when he was supposed to be in bed?!

Mummy sat down beside them and handed him a mug with a smile. 'Really. Because it's Christmas and Daddy came home.'

Will couldn't have been happier and sipped the delicious cocoa as Mummy and Daddy shared a kiss.

'Now,' Daddy began. 'It all started when a client came here last Tuesday, dressed in the most ridiculous Elf costume you can imagine…'


	11. Christmas Lights

Molly slowly blinked her eyes open. It was still dark and moonlight flooded the room. She looked over her shoulder and frowned at finding the other side of the bed empty.

Leaning up on her elbow, she felt the sheets.

Cold.

Suddenly, from the other room, she heard a muffled whisper and a strange sound, like something being lightly scraped across the floor.

Tossing the covers back, she slipped out of bed and dropped her bare feet to the cold floor. She hugged her arms around her body, wishing she had on something else besides a baggy tee shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms.

Light streamed under the crack of the door.

Padding to the door, she slowly opened it a crack and peered out.

Her mouth dropped open.

She pulled the door open and stepped out into a wonderland of fairy lights. Sparkling, shimmering lights dangled from the ceiling, interspersed with garlands of greenery. She inhaled deeply of the pine and cedar scents and smiled at the memories of Christmases growing up with her parents in the country.

She followed the lights through the kitchen and into the lounge, where a beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood between the windows. A breathtaking garland draped across the mantle and Billy the Skull was sporting a festive Santa hat. The desk was pushed to the side, out of the way, and the chairs were arranged by the fire, leaving the centre of the room wide open.

And hanging down from the ceiling was a stunning chandelier of greenery and lights, with strands of lights webbing out to all corners of the room.

Molly took it all in with wide eyes.

In the corner, balancing on a kitchen chair, Sherlock was struggling to hang the end of a strand of lights. He finally managed to get it hooked and he jumped down, landing lightly on the floor.

'It's beautiful!' She whispered.

Sherlock spun around, surprised. 'Molly! You're not supposed to be up yet,' he accused, an embarrassed blush on his face.

The lights shimmered through the sheen of tears in her eyes. 'You did all this for me?'

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dressing gown, Sherlock shrugged one shoulder.

Unable to hide her smile, Molly approached him slowly and slid her arms around his waist. 'I love you.'

'And I you,' he replied and wrapped his arms around her.

They gradually began to sway back and forth, Sherlock humming a soft tune, and before Molly knew it, they were waltzing under the twinkling of the fairy lights.

It was the perfect Christmas surprise.


	12. Christmas Conundrum

**AN: Yay! Two today, because I forgot to post this morning and am combining it with tomorrow's. So don't miss _Christmas Lights,_ the chapter before this. :) **

* * *

**Emergency. Need you at Baker Street NOW! SH**

People leapt out of the way as John Watson barrelled down the street, his coat flapping at his sides as he pulled the hammer back on his gun, his dark, shadowed face promising excruciating pain to whomever found themselves on the receiving end of his bullet.

With one mighty kick, the front door of Baker Street splintered off its hinges and he bolted up the stairs two steps at a time ready to save Sherlock from whatever mess the Consulting Detective had managed to deduce his way into.

Only to find a very much alive, very much safe, Sherlock Holmes staring pensively at a table covered in shimmering holiday boxes, bags, and rolls of wrapping paper.

Heaving a few adrenaline-induced breaths, John tried to hold back his temper. 'Sherlock…'

The detective grunted but didn't turn around. 'John, yes. Finally. I expected you three minutes ago.'

'What. Are. You. Doing?'

Spreading his arms wide, Sherlock gestured at the table. 'Wrapping a present.'

Releasing the hammer of his gun, John lowered his arms and dropped his head back. He closed his eyes and momentarily considered the consequences of shooting his best friend in his right butt cheek.

 _Not_ quite _worth it. I'd have to tend to the wound. And neither of us wants that._

Shaking his head to rid himself of the mental image, John tucked his gun back into his trousers and stomped over to Sherlock's side.

'You're wrapping a present?' He clenched his fists and breathed purposefully. 'You texted me that it was an _emergency_. I ran here from the clinic! Do we need to have another discussion about what exactly constitutes an 'emergency'?'

'It's for Molly,' Sherlock snapped disdainfully, as if that was 'emergency' enough. He picked up a roll of shimmering red paper with glittered silver snowflakes. He peered at the paper, lifted a corner and rubbed it between his fingers, before wrinkling his nose and discarding the entire roll onto a growing pile on the floor.

Placing his hands on his hips, Sherlock surveyed the remaining store of choices. 'Thus far, I have yet to find an appropriate wrapping for her gift.'

John opened his mouth, about to rip into Sherlock, then shut it with a snap. What would be the point? Counting to ten, he pushed down his frustration and turned to the task at hand.

'What's wrong with the wrappings here?'

Sherlock glanced at him in disdain.

John rubbed his forehead. 'Seriously, Sherlock. What are you looking for? What did you even get her?'

Sherlock reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, flipping it open with a flourish. A sparkling diamond engagement ring was nestled in the soft velvet.

John's eyes bugged as he tried to understand what he was seeing. 'You're proposing?!'

Sherlock hummed and snapped the box shut, slipping it back into his pocket. 'And I won't have to purchase a separate Christmas gift. Two birds and all that.' He smirked.

'You're all heart, Sherlock.'

As usual, John's sarcasm went right over Sherlock's curly head. 'Thank you. Now,' he clapped his hands. 'Tell me which paper is perfect for this.'

John shook his head and turned away. 'Sorry, mate. You're on your own with this.'

'No, come back! John, I need your help!'

oOo

 **Five Days Later**

'Are they here yet?!'

'No.'

'Where are they?!'

'I don't know! They should have been here by now.'

'Wait, I think that's them!'

'Oh! Oh! It is! Now shut up!'

John harrumphed and strained his neck to look out the window. Down below, in Mrs Hudson's garden, earlier in the day they had strung fairy lights and placed jars of candles about in the mounds of freshly-fallen snow. Now they were watching unabashedly as Sherlock led a blindfolded Molly out. She shivered in the cold and Sherlock shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

He took her hands again and led her into the middle of the garden. Carefully, he reached around and undid the knot to let the blindfold fall away. Molly's face transformed into an expression of awe as she looked around.

'What did he end up choosing for the wrapping? A bag? A brain?'

John chuckled. 'He never said.'

Mary suddenly began flapping her hands. 'Oh my god, he's doing it!'

oOo

The ground was wet and cold, but Sherlock didn't care. Staring up into the face of the love of his life, he reached into his pocket.

Molly's eyes had gone wide as soon as he dropped to his knee. 'Sherlock,' she breathed in wonder.

'I spent weeks picking out the perfect ring, the perfect wrapping, the perfect words, for what I'm about to ask. But in the end, none of that matters. All that does matter is that you see me more clearly than any other person. You see past all the walls I've put up to the very heart of who I am. And you accept me. You love me for it.' He pulled out the ring, sans wrapping and box. 'So this is me, asking you to take me as I am, no packaging, no masks, as your husband.'

By now, tears were falling down her rosy cheeks.

He took her left hand and kissed the back. 'I love you, Molly Hooper. Will you marry me?'

oOo

'I think that's a _yes_ ,' Mary laughed and leaned against John, who shook his head fondly.

Down below, their friends were blissfully unaware of the falling snow covering them as they kissed, sprawled on the ground where they'd fallen when Molly had lunged at Sherlock and knocked him backward.

A sparkling diamond shone on Molly's left hand.


	13. Calm Christmas

It was snowing heavily, but inside Baker Street, the fire was crackling and blankets were in abundance. The telly was pulled out to face the sofa, where Molly and Sherlock were laying together.

Having been shushed numerous times, Sherlock had finally fallen quiet and simply watched the movie playing on the screen. In his arms, Molly was watching her favourite holiday film happily. Every so often, Sherlock would press a kiss to her neck and she would smile and wrap his arms tighter around her.

As the final scene of the movie played out, the main characters singing _White Christmas_ while snow finally fell in Vermont, Sherlock glanced down at Molly. Her eyes had fallen closed and her lips were parted, soft breaths escaping as she dozed lightly.

Sherlock traced her features with his gaze, taking in the soft nose and brown lashes.

Of all the things he'd been blessed with in his life, he counted her as the greatest of them.

Tugging the blankets higher around them, he breathed in deeply of the pine candle burning nearby and the unique scent that was his Molly and joined her in contented sleep.


	14. Christmas Morning

**Merry Christmas! I hope all your days are filled with love and warmth, whether you celebrate this day or not.**

Something was poking her face.

Molly scrunched her nose and turned over, burrowing her face in the pillow.

The poker was not dissuaded and prodded her shoulder.

'Molly,' a voice whispered excitedly.

She waved a hand dismissively and with the other pulled the covers over her head.

'Molly, wake up!'

She held fast to the covers when they were tugged away and grumbled. 'Ten more minutes, Sherlock.'

'But Molly,' he whined. 'It's Christmas morning! And there are presents to be opened!'

Her big mistake was opening her eyes. Through the fog of morning sleepiness, she came face-to-face with her exuberant husband who was practically vibrating with excitement. And his beautiful eyes, which had tested her resolve countless times before, were wide and pleading.

Sighing, Molly narrowed her eyes at him. 'Someday I will be able to resist you, Sherlock Holmes.'

'I hope not,' he chuckled and kissed her sweetly. 'Now up, up, up! There's coffee on the stove and a new microscope waiting to be unwrapped!'

A gleeful grin spread across his face and he bounded from the room. Molly followed at a glacial pace, wrapped in the thick comforter, and blinking the sleep from her eyes.

As Sherlock plopped himself down at the foot of the tree and began rooting through the presents, Molly poured herself a cuppa and breathed in the heady smell of Mrs Hudson's holiday coffee mix, tinged with peppermint. She took a sip and practically purred in satisfaction.

Shuffling into the lounge, she leaned against the doorframe and smiled over the rim of her cup as Sherlock tore into the largest box.

The delighted surprise on his face when he realised she'd not bought him just _any_ microscope, but a Phase Contrast Trinocular Microscope, was worth being awoken at 5:30am.

She giggled when he abandoned all the other gifts and hurried to set the box on the kitchen table, being sure to kiss her as he rushed by.

'Love you,' he mumbled against her lips, almost incapable of wiping the grin off his face.

Molly just smiled knowingly and left him to his new microscope. She took in the few gifts that were left under the tree; a few gifts for her, which she would open later, and a handful more from her to Sherlock (just a new scarf and a handmade book consisting of coupons he could redeem for body parts at the morgue.) A bit macabre, perhaps. But perfect for them.

As Sherlock exclaimed excitedly over each new facet of his microscope, Molly curled up on the couch, basking in the lights from the tree and the soft snowfall outside the window, and watched him until she drifted back to sleep, a smile of complete contentment on her face.


End file.
